


Petals of a Lotus

by Wildchu



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fiction, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 05:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildchu/pseuds/Wildchu
Summary: Vietnam used to be like a beautiful lotus: young, full-bloomed, and untamed. But as time dragged on, she started losing herself little by little as the petals fall off. With each fallen petal, a story is retold from her life, and all of its pain and regrets come with back with it.





	Petals of a Lotus

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I am simply jut transferring some of my stories over. So I haven’t gone through and edited it yet, so forgive me for any mistakes there may be.

The beautiful pure hues of flowers shone brightly along the Mekong River as the morning mist rose from the earth, floating fleetingly on the surface of the waters. The light pink, glistening petals of the plant bloomed with radiance, flaunting in the soft, gentle winds of the coast. The cool spring breeze billowed across the sea of plants and it danced rhythmically in beat. It was like a dream. A fantasy almost as a small, wooden boat sailed through the masses of lotuses.

It was a sight to behold, a certain Asian thought, her golden eyes glossing over the scene. No matter how many times she visited the river, she never ceased to grow bored at the new blossoming buds of the season, a faint smile stretched across her tanned features. She couldn't help but marvel at it, but it had reminded her painfully of her own blooming youth. It was beautiful, and one could certainly say her life could be compared to that of the efflorescence plant.

As all flowers went, there was only a single time where the lotus would look as alluring as it did now. Vietnam knew this, for she had once been like it. She was envied in her adolescent life all because she had won her freedom from that Chinese man. She was detested by most; her rash and inconsiderate nature hindering other nations from their success. Despite the obvious factors, though, she was adored for her ambitious, hopeful nature and persuasive charm. But as all graces went, they all eventually lose their elegance when the dark curtain of years' past cast over them, leaving behind no trace of what once was a beauty to behold.

With each passing moment of life, Vietnam's bountiful flower slowly wilted away, leaving only a couple delicate petals hanging on to dear life. With each petal she had lost, her regrets grew deeper and deeper, and her desire to reverse time increasing tremendously. Little by little, her lotus became nothing more than a stem and some remaining blades of green. Her last words, never spoken but always considered, were at the core of the flower.

The small nation crouched down in her boat, carefully bending over towards the waters to pick up one of her national flowers, her glazed eyes glowering at it. Slowly, she started to pull the petals off.

* * *

**1st P-E-T-A-L**

_Illuminated with glee and pride, a soft grin spread out on the Asian girl's face. The night sky flared in bright hues of orange and red, ashes falling down onto the thatched roofs. Screams of horror and agony echoed through the winds as innocent villagers fled from their unstable homes. Children clung onto to their parents for dear life, unbeknownst to them the imminent death they face from the fast-spreading flames._

_She continued her sprint away from the burning village, gulping in the polluted air as she attempted to flee from the scene. 'That'll show that insolent boy,' she thought as she imagined the incredulous look on her victim's face with a sly grin. Sweat matted her hair as she continued to run deeper into the densely packed forest, stopping only when she felt she was far enough from the horrendous site. The screams grew dimmer, and though it pained her young heart to hear the dying voices of the innocent, it was the price she was willing to make. There was no regret. Dai Viet let out slow, deliberate breaths of warm air as she gripped the hilt of her weapon, crouching down slightly. The girl reached out her other delicate hand, shifting her weight onto a nearby tree._

_There were soft sounds of leaves rustling behind her, and soon after, the loud sound of twigs being snapped could be heard. So.. It appears he found her after all. The dark-haired girl smirked, almost positive she heard cursing behind her back. "Did you like the surprise?" she inquired, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. It was all worth it. All worth it to see the Chinese boy furious at the damages she had done. Her golden eyes flashed an amused spirit as she whipped around to face the individual._

_The sword dropped down from her grip as the raven-haired woman gaped at the sight of the boy, all grown and lean with a mature figure. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right. Could this really be the boy whom she met so long ago? His long dark hair was carefully stretched behind him into a neatly put ponytail; his body plated with tough armor and decors of bright hues. The young Vietnamese girl stared, baffled at the sight of him, the small houses in the distance blazing with flames behind him._

_He wore a mask of weariness, glaring at her with disgust and hatred. His eyebrows were knotted in, frightening her out of her wits. No. This was not the boy she met all those years ago. This was a demon, finally awoken from his long slumber. The shock was clearly seen on her face. China gave a savaged grunt, his dark orbs gleaming a murderous glance. "I-I-….," she began to say before a swift hand came in contact with her face. Her head whiplashed to the side, a painful prickling at her cheeks from the mark, but she remained put._

_Silence. And then.. The Viet turned to look at the man in front._

_"Is this not what you wanted?" he spat harshly. "Is this not the point you wanted to get across to me? To humiliate me?" he hissed with venom. She could not meet his gaze, fearing for the worst. His anger ignited even further as he seized her, his bloodied hands wrapped around her neck. "Look around you-! Look and see all the lives you have taken because of this-! The soiled land... The land now tainted with the blood of innocent Chinese children!" China yelled lividly._

"I'm sorry, but imagine everything I went through

while I was under your rule…

Your tyranny. Your wraith. Your cold heart. I had to endure it all."

* * *

**2nd P-E-T-A-L**

_Light, classical music played around the halls as people danced and shuffled across the floor. The large, ornate chandelier lit up the ballroom, highlighting the beautiful mosaics painted on the walls. The Vietnamese woman idly sat at the decorated table, her head rested on her clenched fists. Her gaze wandered about, catching sights of the tight, elegant dresses the other women wore. The golden eyes appeared distant and dull, her head aching from the repetitive beat of the song._

_One two three four. One two three four._

_The foreigners twirled about, their long, lacey attire sweeping the ground with grace. Vietnam peered down at her own outfit, noting the deliberate designs in her grassy-hued gown. Such high maintenance outfits did not fit her style, but under the French's influence, she must acquiesce to his orders. The woman wore a look of disgust as she looked around._

_"Une femme de vos normes ne devrait pas bouder une occasion comme ça," spoke a sudden melodic voice. Chills passed down her spine as she felt the warm breath behind her. It was bizarre she had not noticed the man as she usually did. As expected, a tall, blond haired man with dark blue eyes stood behind her, a pleasant smile on his stubbled face as she turned to face him._

_"Excuse me?" she replied, declining to speak in French. The Vietnamese woman knew perfectly well what he said, but as a retribution for forcing her under his rule, she refused to speak his language in front of his vile self. His soft smile faltered at her, his eyes still filled with a hopeful look. He cleared his throat before he spoke again._

_"I said, a beautiful woman like you shouldn't be pouting on an occasion like this," he stated clearly, a thick French accent accompanying his words. "Is there something wrong, ma chère*?" He pulled a seat next to her, gently tucking his long hair behind his ear._

_"Of course nothing is wrong," she spat harshly. "There's never anything wrong with these balls of yours and stuffing me into these waist-constricting corsets!" she hissed, averting her gaze away from the European._

_France's face conveyed a sharp pang of disappointment at her hostile tone. Everything she could have ever wanted, the blond tried to grant it the best way possible. All he wanted in return was for her to respect him as a being, or even as an equal. He yearned for her to show some kind of affection to him. Vietnam could see this, but it boiled her blood even more at his persistence._

_"Ma chère. . .Please? Just enjoy this last night with me, and do me the honour of letting me dance with you?" he pleaded, reaching for her hand and clasping them in between his own warm hands. The Asian woman's auriferous eyes finally met his, sparking in certainty as she spoke her first words to him._

_"Non. Je veux ma liberté."*_

"I do not want to be treated like a lady.

I do not need these excessive accessories.

I just want to be free."

* * *

3rd P-E-T-A-L

**August 1945**

**The August Revolution**

_Large fires blazed throughout the whole capital of Hanoi as the prideful Vietnamese natives charged into the building. Terrified shrieks filled the sky as the revolutionists marched on in, smashing everything into bits and pieces as they passed. Ho Chi Minh lead his group to victory as they crashed through the doors to each office, holding each victim at gunpoint. The Vietnamese personification stood next to her leader, her chest puffed out in pride at their successful raid of the capitol building._

_"He is still here, you know," Grandpa Minh said, pointing at the last sealed door. "Would you like to do the honours?" Rows and rows of the puppet government that the Japanese installed lined up against the wall as the Viet Minh guarded them. Ho Chi Minh glanced over to his country waiting for her response._

_With a firm nod from the nation, the troops near the last door stepped down at his command. This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for since the beginning of World War II. The door came crashing down with one swift kick of the ebony-haired woman, causing a loud bang as it made contact with the ground. There he was._

_The island representation of Japan stood arguably in an offensive stance, his long katana drawn from behind the desk. His dark army uniform reflected an unfamiliar sense of power from him, his eyes cold and harsh. A scowl crossed his face as he recognized his former family colonies' presence. Behind her, Vietnam could hear the men raising their guns up, their fingers clicking at the trigger. Aggression rose in his dark, emotionless eyes._

"It's over Japan. Go home now," the woman spat harshly, raising her own weapon towards him. "You have been defeated. Face it with dignity while you still can." She was taken aback when the Japanese man laughed a laughter filled with insanity.

_"You are a fool of a nation, you know that?" the Japanese man spoke venomously. "I am the enemy. Do not show mercy so easily like that! It doesn't surprise me anymore on how France even managed to take control over you in the first place!" the scowl returned as he glared at her. "What happened to the Vietnam who defeated and fended herself off from the Mongols, eh? Or the one who defeated China?" he retorted with disgust._

"The Vietnam you are looking for

is gone.

Just like the Japan that is in

front of me."

* * *

**4th and L-a-s-t P-e-t-a-l**

****

****

**March 13, 1968**

_The ebony-haired woman toppled forward onto the dusty ground, a bloodcurdling scream escaping from her chap lips. All of sudden, a sharp pain shot through her chest, taking away her breath as her head started to swarm with the agonizing sounds of her people. It was early in the war, but the Americans were already on the move and had started their secret mission. The small, uniformed nation curled up near the dirt-paved paths of the rice patties, strolling along when it all happened._

_Vietnam just happened to arrive at the coastal village of Sơn Mỹ when the troops stormed in, the loud whirring of helicopters heard overhead. Quickly scrambling to the nearest field to hide, she felt her heart burst with a new pain as shots were fired on the villagers. More screams filled the early morning air, along with the bitter taste of iron as blood was spilt. Soon, the ground trembled under the steps of the 100 Americans as they raided the small town._

_Guns continued firing on the unarmed people, bodies after bodies fell with a thump to the earth. Women yelled in terror as they soon found themselves in the hands of the pale westerners. Their dark eyes reflected fear for the unknown. Little did they know it would be their last time being able to roam the streets again. It was suppose to be a normal day, with market deals being made and the usual labour of people. The nation cowered, lowering her military cap down as she backed away, more injuries appearing on her from the sudden attacks on the Vietnamese. She quickly found refuge in the remaining trees outlining the patties, her breath sharp and jagged._

_"I knew I would find you here," spoke a low voice from behind her. With a gasp, Vietnam flinched forward, her eyes widening as she glanced behind her. His face was dirtied with grime and sweat, his blond hair matted under his helmet, but his clear blue eyes were obvious. America stood with his jaws clenched, glaring down at the small woman. The Asian attempted to raise her gun up, but she was stopped short as another pang of pain washed through her._

_"I'm sorry Viet. But they are better off dead than red," he said bluntly, his glasses sliding down to the bridge of his nose. The America lifted his gun to her head, a remorseful gleam in his eyes._

"You said you would help me…

Not hurt me.."

* * *

As her memories slipped by in the Viet’s mind, so too did the fragile flower in her clasped hands. The vibrant pink leaves were no more, leaving behind a pitiful looking stem. The verdant leaves that peeked out started to brown at her touch, the array of pastel colors started to lose its grandeur, and it reminded the nation of how cruel the world could be.


End file.
